Cookies in Space
by scully-hearts-roslin
Summary: Dearest Bill, do not peek-a-boo in presidential cookie jars... and if you do, make Laura happy!


**Disclaimer:** This was a fic collabo with_ beemex _back in the days when the show was still on. We both do not own BSG or any of the fabby characters we used to amuse ourselves with. We don't want to make money with this although we're broke. But we would've loved to see a scene like that (oh frak, let's be honest: an entire ep like that!). **Rating:** MA, **Pairing:** strictly A/R

**Summary:** Dearest Bill, do not peek-a-boo in presidential cookie jars... and if you do, make Laura happy! ;o)

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**Cookies in Space**

_Run over by a Cylon battle star_…that's how Bill Adama thought his head felt when his viper docked on Colonial One. After a terribly busy day on Galactica, he was in a hurry to get to his weekly supply report meeting with Laura in time. _With Madam President_…he reminded himself since this was clearly a professional and not a private get-together in their leisure time. But then again, when did they actually have any leisure time.

When he entered the presidential office, he was relieved to see that the President was not there yet, and thus, despite of what his watch told him, he was not late. Technically. Tory had greeted him on his arrival and had started to talk the second he'd set foot on Colonial One. His head pounding, his mind had faded in and out but now that he had sat down in the President's office, he relaxed and managed to concentrate on the last part of Tory's lulling flow of words.

".. Quorum, so her time schedule is off a few minutes. She apologizes for the inconvenience and asked me to tell you to make yourself feel at home in her absence."

Bill nodded when Tory excused herself, and let out a sigh of relief as soon as she had left. He walked over to her desk, and settled down in the chair next to it to stretch his legs and lean back.

It was the first time that day that he had a few moments to himself. In a way, it was ironic that he found peace and relaxation in the presidential office. But then on the other hand, it wasn't too much of a surprise. He always felt comfortable in her presence and he enjoyed her company. He liked to talk to her, or to hear her quick mind working on solutions. He also loved to see her talking to him, her mouth was so perfect, and the way her lips would move, slowly forming her words. It hypnotized him sometimes. He smiled to himself when a loud growl interrupted his trail of thoughts. Thoughts, he had to admit, that were anything but professional. He looked at his stomach and growled. "Traitor."

With all the stress and meetings, the reports and combat exercises, he hadn't found the time to eat all day. The last thing he remembered was those algae substitute flakes for breakfast.

That's what it had come to. Not even algae _I-hope-it-wont-move-on-its-own _cereal but - thanks to a Kp342 bacteria outbreak in the algae facility - they were now down to a _you-don't-even-want-to-know-details_ substitute of it. While Bill mentally added "algae-situation" to his list of topics he had to discuss with President Roslin, he tried to ignore the perpetual sounds of complaint that emerged from his stomach. Sitting in the chair next to her desk, his eyes scanned the room to distract his thoughts. And he smiled to himself when he detected a small pile of broken pencils lying on the President's desk.

_So she had picked up that thing with the pencils_; he grinned to himself and remembered the day she had prepared herself for a public debate right before the election. How he had adored her giggles... in the secrecy of his mind alone, of course. He wouldn't have wanted to add to her nervousness. But ever since that day, he had hoped to see those giggles again - to see that sparkle in her eyes when she laughed, and to experience how easily her laughter could infect him. The way her face relaxed when she laughed, freed from that presidential mask that shut everyone else out, including him. It was in those rare moments that she allowed him to see the woman behind the politician – when she laughed freely and whole-heartedly. It was then that she oozed happiness and looked ravishing and adorably cute.

_CUTE?_ _Now where had that come from?_

"Get a grip, old man." He chided himself.

_The President of the 12 colonies is NOT_ – he reminded himself - _NOT CUTE_.

How would he like it if someone said that he, the Admiral of the Fleet, was _CUTE?_

After a moment of self-scrutiny, a small annoying voice in the back of his mind whispered that it would largely depend on who would actually say that.

He shook his head in frustration - he definitively needed to distract himself from that whole line of thoughts. He blamed his abysmally low sugar levels for making him think about her like that.

Hesitantly, he continued to scan the room. This time hoping to find something to eat – anything actually, even if it was unrealistic to hope for some simple bread or fruits.

Suddenly, Bill spotted a small pot on the coffee table that looked suspiciously like a cookie jar.

'This is…this can't be, can it?"

_Was it possible that there were cookies left in the universe?_

Bill licked his lips, preparing himself to be disappointed when he slowly lifted the lid. His eyes almost popped out when he found a small pile of carefully arranged cookies inside.

'That innocent looking, cruel woman.'

_She had cookies?_ _And she had never bothered to offer him any_? _He had shared his last drops of genuine Ambrosia that was left in the whole fleet with that woman! Alright - he had also wanted her to feel comfortable around him and to loosen up a little, but still... _

Bill almost felt a little hurt that she hadn't mentioned it. Of course, he would never let anyone know that he did have a sweet tooth. It just did not fit his job description as a serious and intimidating Admiral of the fleet. But the truth was that he did like to revel in sweet desserts: Tiramisu, chocolate, cookies, you name it.

Bill Adama knew everything about the fleet, how much algae was produced, how often people flushed the toilet, how much petrol was refined, everything. And he was sure that he would have heard about any cookie reserves if there had been any. So these cookies must have been made recently and he was pretty sure that they must have cost a fortune, just to trade in eggs and flour. And judging from their tasteful shape, someone on Colonial One had probably even made those herself.

He hesitated for a moment and glanced around like a burglar who was about to strike. There was still no sign of the President and from what he could make out, Tory was on the phone with Dr. Spud discussing the bacteria situation. So, considering the possible repercussions one last time, he happily grabbed a cookie after a beat, before he took a big bite.

_Well, after all, Tory had said that Laura wanted him to feel "at home"._

He munched in silence with a content boyish grin on his face. And while he was enjoying the delicious sweet taste, he briefly wondered - in the back of his mind - why the person who had gone through so much trouble to make these delicious hazelnut cookies hadn't bothered to peel the nuts.

The texture felt a little raw - but it was just TOO GOOD to stop.

So he had to have another cookie.

And another one.

Not even being able to remember the last time he had had a cookie, and knowing that it was only a matter of time before Laura would return to Colonial One, Bill Adama quickly shoved another handful of these delicacies in to his mouth. It was then that he heard some shuffling and groaning behind the curtains.

His reaction speed on pilot level, Bill quickly covered the surviving cookies and hurried back to the chair next to the presidential desk. He managed to muffle any sound of movement, his facial expression innocent and above suspicion, when an edgy Laura Roslin stepped through the curtains.

President Roslin gave the Admiral one of those rare bright smiles of hers she reserved for him alone. She briefly apologized for being late, and immediately started to go through the supply reports. Allowing herself to think about his smile for a moment, she judged it to be a little more self-complacent than usual. But she couldn't really put her finger on it. She was unsure if he might be up to something or if she was simply reading too much into his friendly smile.

Shrugging off her personal thoughts about him, she turned her concentration back to the tasks at hand and continued to go through the fleet reports.

It was an hour into the meeting when she looked up from one of the files she was discussing with him to find Bill acting strangely. It looked like he wanted to take off his boots. Laura raised an eyebrow, wondering about his behavior, and started to protest.

"Excuse me?" She said calmly, her voice giving away her astonishment. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean? You take off your shoes all the time at my place. So why shouldn't I have equal rights here?" He met her eyes with a frenzied gaze. "Just because I am not flexible enough to tug my legs under me like you doesn't mean that I don't want to feel more comfortable from time to time."

He began to untie the laces of his boots, took them off, and then paused, staring at his left boot. When he started to giggle, Laura didn't trust her ears. She had _never _heard him giggle before. The Admiral of the fleet didn't giggle! He occasionally chuckled in the privacy of his quarters and only in the presence of a selection of very few people.

But _that_ had definitively been a giggle.

Laura observed his actions with confusion and bemusement until he placed his boot onto her desk. His foot landing right on the Kp342 killer bacteria report, Bill mumbled, "That's how we will get rid of that bacteria - step on them!"

And when another giggle escaped the Admiral's throat, Laura rose to her feet. This wasn't the self-controlled, professional and overly correct William Adama she knew.

"Admiral, are you feeling alright?" She was concerned.

Not showing any other kind of reaction, Adama continued to stare at his left boot on the desk.

"Can you hear me? Are you alright?" She got up while an incoherent smile slowly crept over his face, his eyes never leaving the boot.

"Bill, what's the matter with you?" Laura circled her desk and approached him. She carefully placed her fingers under his chin to raise it so he would meet her gaze.

Slowly, his eyes met hers, but they were fogged and he obviously had difficulties focusing on her. She had always loved his warm dark eyes, big and tender when they looked at her. She had often lost herself in them. Right now, his pupils were dilated and wide.

A suspicious thought crossed Laura's mind. And while he continued to grin foolishly at her, she discovered a trail of cookie crumbs on the floor. "Did he eat my space cookies?" She asked, her own eyes going wide. _Gods no, _why hadn't he asked her! She would have explained that she had enhanced them with the last remains of her New Caprican weed.

It would have made a bad impression if the President of the Colonies and the Admiral of the Fleet were caught smoking dope. So she had decided to bake those cookies for him – cookies that had earned her a reputation in college she was still proud of. She had intended to give him a sample on Colonial Day next week since - according to his latest remark - he still held the memory of being with her on New Caprica very dear.

"Bill, listen to me!" Laura tried to interrogate him "Did you eat some of the cookies over there in the jar?"

Bill didn't listen – his mind was fully consumed with a careful inspection of his own hands. "Laura, my hands are huge…."

He paused, wrapped up in his own thoughts, before he slowly put he hands together in the air. "They can touch anything but themselves…"

Laura shook her head, unintentionally smiling at the situation. She had managed to intoxicate the Admiral of the Fleet and make him babble nonsense about the universe and his hands. _Gods of Kobol, you have an interesting sense of humor._

She sighed deeply, and rested her hands on his shoulders, trying to get his attention.

"Bill. Look at me," she spoke to him in a soft voice. "LOOK AT ME! Good. Now listen, carefully. Those cookies you ate – they were…well… _enhanced_ with some of the weed from New Caprica."

She took a deep breath. "Do you remember? The stuff we smoked down there on Ground Breaking Day?"

She gave him a melancholic smile. "The sand bags, the starry night?"

Although she wasn't sure if he was actually able to follow her words, she continued. "Do you understand? Bill, I don't know how many cookies you ate, but you are not supposed to eat more than two at a time or it can get out of hand…"

Laura looked down on her Admiral. He had stopped smiling. Hoping that some of what she had said had sunk in, she continued to look deep into his eyes. Due to the lack of reaction from his side, she couldn't really tell though if her words had actually had an effect on him.

Suddenly, Bill moved his hands up to his shoulders to cover hers in slow motion. She raised an eyebrow, never leaving his gaze.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes." He said slowly, his smile dreamy and broad.

"Really?"

"Yes. You drugged me."

Laura couldn't help but smile at his perception of the situation.

"Well, not _intentionally_, I…" She tried to defend herself with a flirty look on her face.

"It's ok. I don't feel so bad." Bill shrugged. "Actually, it is kind of nice. The first moment of the day I feel relaxed..."

His hands were still holding hers – her delicate fingers resting under his calloused palms – when he began to lead her right hand to his lips to softly kiss her fingertips.

Laura froze. That, she hadn't expected.

The last time they had shared weed on New Caprica, they had both felt very relaxed and free from all worries in a way – their souls had been as light as feathers. They had enjoyed each other's company and the burdens of duty had vanished in to thin air. But she didn't recall that their weed had been an aphrodisiac. Time had slowed down and they had observed the stars in the sky. But that was about it.

Bill had closed his eyes and continued to brush his lips against her fingers. He kissed the inside of her palm, and Laura gasped before she decided to slowly withdraw her hand.

She was awfully aware of the blush that was creeping up to her cheeks, and muttered something about the inappropriateness of the situation. Bill opened his eyes, giving her his best puppy look. Laura, wishing to escape his tender treatment, caught herself returning his gaze longer than anticipated before she looked away.

There was no chance they would get any more work done just now with the Admiral being high like that. She wanted him to leave as soon as possible before anything else happened that would make them blush in the morning. Especially her. She groaned and wrinkled her nose in disdain at her own weakness when it came to the Admiral.

"You look like you smelled something funny." Bill interrupted her and started to giggle again.

Laura frowned. She could not possibly send him back to Galactica like this. Who knew what else he would do. He was definitely not behaving rationally, and he continued to have those uncontrolled giggle fits, wearing a content grin on his lips. An Admiral was not supposed to giggle. Alright, neither was a president, but then that was different. The more important question at the moment, and the one that remained was what to do now. He couldn't just stay here now, could he? It was one thing for her to stay on Galactica. But he was the Admiral of the fleet and belonged on his Battlestar. Apart from that, Colonial One did not exactly have a lot of guest quarters. None, to be exact. And with Zarek, her Vice President and a passionate snorer, living right across the hall at the other end of the deck, she couldn't risk Bill being seen in his delicate state of mind.

She sighed.

So, what choice did she have? None really if she didn't want the entire fleet to know that the Admiral was totally stoned at the moment and that the President enjoyed having space cookies after working hours. Laura groaned - her brain hurt. She needed help, very desperately so. And there was just one person to turn to.

"Tory," Laura whispered when she stepped through the curtains into the public area of Colonial One.

"The Admiral seems to be...mmh, let's say... incapacitated. I don't think he can make it back to Galactica tonight." She gave her aide an uneasy smile.

"Please call off the raptor from Galactica and take care of all necessary arrangements."

Tory's eyes narrowed and Laura saw how her left eyebrow almost disappeared from her forehead. The word "disapproval" was written all over her face.

"Madam President, I don't mean to interfere with your personal life and …well…it is not like I did not see this coming...but I mean... wouldn't it be wise to be more discreet?"

Laura looked at her, puzzled. "I am afraid that I don't follow, Tory?"

Her aide's ears started to turn red when she shot her an embarrassed look.

"Oh… OH! No.", was all that Laura could mutter when realization dawned on her.

"Tory, maybe you should come with me for a moment, so you can assess the situation in more detail. This is of course a matter of highest confidentiality."

Laura turned around and stepped back into her office. Tory followed as she was told, rolling her eyes in silent protest.

_Of course. As if in a position like mine, there's ANYTHING BUT a matter of highest confidentiality. It's confidential ALL THE TIME, otherwise they wouldn't call me the President's...HOLY COW! _

It took Tory all the self-control she could muster to prevent those words from being blurted out loud.

With her mouth wide agape and her eyes widened in shock, Tory was looking at Admiral Adama. He was sitting on the floor in the presidential office following the carpet's pattern with his index finger while content giggles escaped from the depth of his throat.

He looked up at the sound of the two women entering the room, and tried to stand, refusing to allow the treacherous drug cookies to overcome his good manners. But he wasn't too stable on his feet so he grabbed the nearby curtain to pull himself up.

When he finally managed to get to his feet, Bill tried to hide his embarrassment with an apologetic smile, and said, "I am very sorry about the curtain. I just don't seem to feel very well right now. Everything is a little blurry." He was still holding onto the curtain that was partially ripped off by now. "Even speaking is getting harder. And if I didn't know any better, I would say that I had twenty spliffs of that New Caprican..erm...how do you call it?"

"It's ok, Admiral. I am sure we can fix the curtain again." Laura interrupted.

Tory looked into the Admiral's eyes – his pupils were big as saucers.

"Should I …call Dr. Cottle maybe?" Tory suggested with growing concern about the Admiral's strange behavior.

"No, I don't think that calling him will do any good."

Laura vaguely waved her hand towards Bill who was still grinning to himself and stared at the curtains pattern with a growing amount of interest.

"_This_...will wear off by itself in a few hours. Calling Doc Cottle would only raise further attention to the Admiral's current state. Do you remember the cookies I made yesterday? I..uhh..added some of the weed I had left. I thought it would be a nice surprise and a good joke. But it seems like the Admiral found them and had more of them than was good for him."

"You put weed into…my Gods…!" Tory was annoyed. "And I can't believe he actually ate your cookies."

She shook her head. "Are you sure that we can handle this without Dr. Cottle? He has always been very discreet and even on a hypothetical level, the Major would be the first one to understand the usage of drugs." _The chain smoker he is_, Tory added silently to herself.

"No Tory, it's really not a big deal. We just cannot let anyone else see him like this for the next few hours. It would seriously undermine his authority. So would you please see to it that the raptor is called off and please come up with a good excuse while you are at it."

Laura shot her a pleading rather than stern look.

"Actually, I have a better idea, Madam President. We will not call the raptor off - the change in the flight schedule would only make people see that the Admiral did not come back from Colonial One. I will take the raptor to Galactica and request that the pilot will be Ensign Anders. I fully trust him. He'll tell anyone who wants to know that the Admiral returned with him. I'll schedule a morning flight for you to Galactica so the two of you can come back in the same raptor to "meet" for your morning briefing in the Admiral's quarters. I can sleep in the permanently reserved governmental guest quarters over on Galactica and meet you there. I have to take care of certain things on Galactica anyway."

_Like a one-on-one meeting with Ensign Anders_, Tory silently added and smirked.

The President nodded approvingly. "Ok, let's do it that way. And I will try to get the Admiral to his senses again in the meantime."

After Tory had left, Laura Roslin walked over to her Admiral again. "Bill, you should really sit down on the couch. It's better than the carpet. See, I am also sitting on the couch, it is much more comfy." She tried to reason with him. It was like dealing with a 5 year-old.

"Relax, Laura. You're so tense." Bill returned, following her into her private quarters.

"Why can't we all relax a bit? Here, if it makes you happy, I'll sit on the couch with you." Laura smiled in relief. Bill studied her face and smiled back at her.

"There. See. It is not so hard to relax and feel happy. You should smile more often. I like you when you smile."

Although Laura knew that it was not 100% Bill Adama, but the New Caprican weed talking, she felt butterflies waking in her stomach at the sound of his kind words. And she wondered how much of a clear-headed Bill she was actually hearing between the lines. She noticed that she found him quite handsome when all those deep wrinkles of sorrow were washed away from his face, replaced by one of his warm smiles. _I also like to see you smile, Bill_.

"But I have to admit that it sort of confuses me a lot lately."

He had continued to mumble while she had been lost in thoughts, and Laura realized she was supposed to say something. "Erm… sorry, what confuses you?"

"Who are you, Laura?"

Laura shook her had in bemusement: how could a little bit of New Caprican weed turn such a reasonable and intelligent man like William Adama into a babbling senseless fool.

"What? What do you mean? You know who I am..."

He cut her off with an unexpectedly sharp remark. "Oh, do I?"

Bill was leaning forward. For the first time during their conversation, his facial expression had turned serious and his voice was even and controlled. And there was something else in his eyes that Laura couldn't quite identify. She had learned to read him well - it was part of her being able to survive as a politician but also part of having spent a great deal of time studying him and his face whenever he was talking to someone. But this was different. There was a strange glint in his eyes when he continued. A glint that made her feel nervous.

"We never actually talk, do we?"

"Maybe you should lie down and rest, Bill. you are not making an awful lot of sense, we talk ALL THE TIME."

"No we don't. We discuss supply reports, working conditions, health issues...like that algae stuff." He shuddered. "...never mind. That's not what I mean. But we don't _talk_." He paused.

"We have known each other for years now and have been through hell and back. But I still don't know what your favorite color is. So, do I know you, Laura Roslin, or don't I?"

"Well, I know that your favorite color is apparently ...red?" she answered playfully, allowing herself a private smile while thinking of Bill's delighted and appreciative smile in response to her red dress on Ground Breaking Day.

Bill smiled absentmindedly and asked "How did you know?"

"Just an educated guess. Mine is red, too. But navy blue is nice as well."

"Hmm, well. Lucky me then, I guess?" His smile broadened.

"I didn't say navy blue uniforms." Her voice was challenging.

"Actually, I wasn't referring to my uniform, but this might be a double match. I was referring to my boxers, which are not navy blue by the way." Bill chuckled.

"You are wearing red boxers?"

Bill laughed heartily when he saw Laura's stunned face.

"That was way more information than I was hoping for." She answered weakly trying to push away the image of Bill in red briefs.

"I guess that means that I don't get to ask you what color your…."

"NO! You don't get to ask that."

Laura wanted to turn away to hide her blushing cheeks but he stopped her by placing his hand on her cheek. Tempted to imply that he would prefer to find out on his own anyway, he gave her one of his warmest smiles instead. "Alright, you get to skip one question."

And he turned away from her again, leaving a need to feel the warmth his hand on her skin.

"Then, when was the last time you kissed?"

Laura opened her mouth to protest again but then closed it thoughtfully. This might turn out be interesting after all. If he had to bug her with his childish - well teenager-ish might be more apt - druggy behavior then she might as well enjoy it and have some fun at his expense.

"Mhhh… let's see. On my last check-up in sickbay, I pecked Dr. Cottle on the cheek, then I snogged a few babies during my election campaign, yes oh and did I mention that Tom Zarek is living on Colonial One?"

She saw how Bill's face darkened for a split second when she mentioned Tom. It triggered a feeling of satisfaction in her, and she couldn't help but giggle at the annoyed expression on his face at the sound of her answer.

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

Laura sobered up by the urgency of his undertone. Suppressing her giggles and looking straight into his eyes, she answered softly, "That would be when you decided to kiss me after I made you Admiral. But you knew this answer already, didn't you?"

Bill remained silent. So there was nothing going on with Tom. And actually the last lips that had touched hers had been his own. Oh how well he remembered that kiss.

"So my turn," she forced him to push the memories to the back of his mind. "when was the last time you kissed, Bill?"

Laura was surprised to see a shy smile on his lips when he answered her quietly. "That same kiss we shared almost 2 years ago."

His voice had turned low, and he almost choked on the last words. Slowly, he began to drop his gaze to her mouth. The hungry look in his eyes made Laura part her lips and flick her tongue over them.

"2 years? My gods, we probably should fake our kissing records for future references." Laura said jokingly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy air surrounding them.

Bill looked at her for a long time. The intensity of his gaze made her squirm. "Or maybe…maybe we should update them."

Laura could feel the time slowing down and all the noise around them disappeared. She only saw his…_Bill's_ … dark eyes and she heard her own heart pounding wildly in response. If he had leaned in and kissed her now, she would not have resisted. She would have welcomed him. She hardly remembered their first kiss. But she remembered that it came as a total surprise and that it had been very gentle and tender, and that it had ended too soon.

But instead of capturing her lips, he stayed where he was, and watched her. She was becoming aware of the fact that despite her usually neatly locked feelings, this situation and this behavior was not exactly appropriate. She was getting mixed signals from the man sitting next to her.

"Are you saying…. Do you want to kiss me?" she asked confused.

"Suppose we say I do, how would you like me to kiss you, Laura?"

Her imagination was quicker than her self-control, and she tried to push away all the little images from those sweet intimate dreams that haunted her in lonely nights. She was tempted to return an equally flirtatious remark but then decided against it, swallowing hard.

The conversation was turning too personal and beyond the manageable occasional banter between them. She had to constantly remind herself that she was with a friend. A friend, whose trust she did not want to betray by asking too many personal questions or by getting into a situation they normally would not get into. Although it was a terribly tempting situation. Would he remember this evening in the morning at all? Some of her best trips had only stayed in her memory as a blur without any details. So where was the sin if he did not remember any of this the next morning?

_No, I won't betray his trust like that_. She had to be reasonable for both of them since he obviously couldn't draw the line anymore. The wisest thing would be to get him to lie down to sleep off his drug induced state. And in the morning, everything would be back to normal, just as it should be.

So she stood up, abruptly – to avoid that conversation and to put some distance between them. Standing in the middle of her office, she caught sight of the radio that was buried in the corner. Maybe music would calm him down and lighten the atmosphere. Laura went over to the radio to switch it on. Why did they spend all those credits on establishing a radio station for the fleet if they didn't use it. The radio made a crackling sound. But after a beat, she was relieved to hear that, fortunately, they were indeed broadcasting a music program.

She settled down again on the couch while Bill was eying her carefully.

Bill seemed to have regained most of his motor skills during the last hour of their conversation. And as far as she could tell, he wasn't slurring his words anymore either.

But there were still plenty of signs that the weed was still powerfully present - one of them being his dilated pupils and the constant unusual grin on his face.

Bill leaned back, his eyes closed and quietly humming the melody from the radio. Laura studied his features, feeling her heart lurch into her throat at his closeness, unaware of his surroundings, happy and relaxed. It made her want to lean against him and share the peacefulness of the moment. But she wouldn't grant herself that wish. The right thing to do was to let him sleep and to pick up business as usual tomorrow morning. And so far, her _brilliant_ idea seemed to work. A few more minutes and the Admiral would probably be fast asleep on her couch.

The song ended and Laura listened to Bill's slow and steady breath. Convinced that he was asleep, she slowly got up to switch the radio off when the next song started. She recognized it, instantly, at the sound of the first few beats. It was the song they had played on her first Colonial Day as President. The song she and Bill had danced to. _Their song._

For a few moments she just stood there, in the middle of the room. She reminisced in the bittersweet memory of having Bill's arms wrapped around her, the feeling of his body pressed to hers while swaying to the song, in unison, across the dance floor.

She had been surprised at his implied invitation to dance with him that night; in fact, she had not expected anyone to ask her that night. She knew that she intimidated them all. Nothing personal, it just came with the job. But of course, not Bill.

It had been the first time that he had let her feel that he wasn't just seeing her as a professional necessity but as a person. He had proven to be a good dancer, which had surprised her a little. She would never have pictured high ranking military people, stiff and serious, to have a sense of good rhythm and passion. And their dance had been very intimate - at least for her.

The way he had held her close without crushing her against him. He had guided their steps with a passionate ease, never squeezing her right hand in his fist like other men had before. Instead he had left his hand slightly open for her alone to decide whether she wanted to follow him. And she had taken his hand and held on to it for the infinity of their dance, hoping that it would last as long as it possibly could.

Laura wore a nostalgic smile on her lips while a feeling of warmth settled in the pit of her stomach.

Bill had opened his eyes at the sound of the familiar notes. Like Laura, he recognized the song at once and his eyes looked for Laura who was not sitting next to him anymore. Standing in the middle of the room, her mind light years away from the reality of her surroundings, she wore a smile he hadn't seen before. He looked at her in curiosity.

_Would she remember their dance on Colonial Day?_ _Did she know how much courage he had had to work up to ask her to dance_, _hiding it behind a neutral "But I can dance." in case she would refuse to dance with him?_

He was still positively awed that she had accepted him. And he had been pleased to find out that she was an excellent dancer. Not a quality he associated with stiff and high-ranking politicians. She hadn't missed a single beat and followed his lead with a natural easiness and grace. Dancing with Laura Roslin had been a moment of pure joy.

Ever since that day, he had longed to hold her close again. He had hoped for another occasion to dance with her, for only dancing was uncontroversial enough to make it possible to feel his heartbeat against hers in public.

Bill got up, slowly, not wanting to startle her. He stepped behind her, but she was still lost in thoughts and showed no reaction to his presence. So he leaned in closer to her, close enough to graze her ear with his lips when he whispered to her. "Would you dance with me?"

Laura jumped slightly and turned around. Drugged or not, William Adama knew when and how to benefit from the element of surprise.

He gently took her right hand in his left, sliding the other around her waist to rest it on the small of her back. He held her like that for a moment before he swiftly started to move to the music with her.

Laura was surprised but not unpleasantly so. The refreshed memories of their last dance still so painfully vivid in her mind, she allowed her left hand to find its way around Bill's shoulder.

She noticed that this little reassuring gesture made him tighten his grip a little and she felt how he pulled her closer. And then she saw it in the corner of her eyes – the most beautiful of smiles on his lips.

Although this was the exact opposite to how she had planned to deal with his presence, her heart was successful in ignoring her sensible mind. She knew that she should send him to bed – alone. _Gods, since when was that so hard?_ She was a Kindergarten teacher, for crying out loud. This was, in essence, not _that_ much of a difference. Only that in this case, she wasn't confronted with a resisting and whining kid who did not want to go to sleep. Instead, it was the Admiral of the Fleet, protecting the last of mankind when he wasn't too stoned to tie his own shoe laces.

But it felt too good to feel his arms around her to be reasonable. And after all, it was just a dance. Something they had already done in public, so why should this be any different?

So Laura relaxed in his closeness and rested her head on his shoulder. _Because it feels different_, an annoying little voice whispered back to her.

The smell of his uniform and the scent of his skin triggered a feeling of safety and intimacy she was tired of fighting right now. Tired of running all the time, tired of being responsible all the time, tired of being alone. She deserved this. She deserved to be happy, even if it was only for the duration of that dance. She snuggled closer to him, absorbing the warmth emanating from his body. When he tightened his embrace, her eyes drifted shut and she lost herself in the song, in their dance, in the perfection of the moment.

She felt how Bill turned his head towards her, ever so slowly. And she felt how he was looking at her. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to see him gazing deeply back at her. Their faces were so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. And just when she thought he would lean in to kiss her, he slowly moved his lips along her ear with a feather light touch, and up to her temple, before he softly whispered her name against her skin.

Drowning in the tenderness he showered her with, Laura hadn't even noticed that the song had ended and another one, much slower and sensual in its rhythm, had started. Bill, determined to seduce her through another dance, met her desire to never let go again. _Ever._

Her heartbeat merging with his, she allowed a silent moan to escape her lips when he kissed her temple again. He whispered her name onto her skin again, hidden under soft kisses. And there it was, the hoarseness in his voice. Pleading for more than this dance. And instead of pulling away, she felt goose bumps travelling over her body, closely followed by a heat of desire she had suppressed for too long.

She tilted her head to the side to give him better access to her face, her moans becoming louder when he nuzzled her ears and kissed his way down to her neck.

Bill smiled. She tasted so sweet. Her skin was so soft against his lips, and her response was so intense. She quivered, her skin was blushed and her mouth produced the most beautiful of little gasps. He sobered up within seconds when he realized that he was kissing her.

It was a tender kiss at first. Deep, strong, testing. The moment he brought his hands to the waistband of her skirt to free her blouse from its grip, he felt her tongue exploring his mouth with a fierce need that matched his own. He felt her fingers move over the buttons of his uniform, shaking, impatient to undo them. His smile broadened when he was freed from his jacket and felt Laura's hands tugging at his shirt immediately. She caressed his skin, her palms slowly inflaming the skin on his chest and back.

Trying to control the growing desire for her, he unwrapped her from her top and skirt, enjoying the picture of her in a lacy bra and panties for a moment. _Red._ He grinned, he should've known. Shooting him a knowing smile, she moved her fingers to his belt and undid his trousers within the blink of an eye. He was amused, and allowed her to study his tight briefs until her lips curved up into a smitten grin.

He pulled her closer to him again, her arms momentarily caught between them until she moved them over his back and his butt. Meeting her for another devouring kiss, he worked on her bra, undoing it almost as fast as her skilled fingers had dealt with his pants. When her breasts pressed against his bare skin, she released a deep moan along with the sound of his name. And Bill began to cover her skin with hungry kisses, paying a special amount of attention to each of her breasts.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Laura narrowed the space between them again, wishing to give him better access to her breasts. And he moved his arms around her waist when she tugged one leg around him, the other one following in the shortness of a breath. And he held her, his face buried between her breasts, his tongue sending shivers down her spine while circling her nipples and sucking at her flesh. Feeling how he moved her against the wall, she indulged in the feeling of the roughness of the wall pressed against her back, and the warmth of his body and the tenderness of his caress on her chest.

Feeling his desire pressing against her, she moaned his name into his neck. When he removed her panties, only to step out of his underpants own along with them, she whispered her need for him into his mouth when they kissed. And she inhaled sharply when he merged with her for the first time. The feeling of being with him overwhelmed her, and she closed her eyes as a tear ran down her cheek. Kissing her tears of joy and bliss from her cheeks, he reassured himself of her satisfaction. The content look on her face, and the softness of her moans filled him with relief. And he began to move with her, finding a rhythm of tenderness and depth that brought them satisfaction and release.

It was an hour later that Laura found herself in his arms. She didn't remember how they had made it to her bed, or when. And she didn't care. All she wanted to think about just now was him. Her head resting on his heaving chest, she listened to the steady beat of his heart while he was asleep. Her left arm was slung across his strong chest, and her fingers were playing with the curls of his hair. She smiled when she felt his hand caressing her waist.

"What time is it?" He muttered, groggy with sleep.

"I don't know." Laura whispered while starting to place soft kisses onto his skin.

He chuckled. "What are you doing?"

"What does it feel like?" She giggled.

Bill shook his head. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Possibly." Her voice was playful and soft.

"That would be the third time in one night."

"Do I hear a complaint?" She tried to keep a steady voice but failed.

"Not in the least." He pulled her into a longing kiss. "I'm just amazed at your energy."

Laura giggled again. "Yes, I've heard that one before."

She grinned.

Releasing a deep moan at the feeling of her hand on his member, he met the mischievous gaze in her eyes. Dark blue melting with glistening green. And he knew that she would repay his favor from earlier that night when he had gone down on her with pleasure.

The following morning, Bill woke to the ringing of her phone. Resisting the urge to answer it himself to send the intruder right out of the next airlock, he placed a tender kiss onto her cheeks to wake her softly. Laura growled, and blinked her eyes to adjust to the darkness of her quarters. "What is it?"

He kissed her again and whispered onto her skin. "The phone."

Pulling her pillow over her ears for a second, she mumbled. "Oh Gods, go spoil someone else's morning and wake me when after we've found Earth."

Bill chuckled.

"Oh, alright!" Laura frowned, leaning over his naked body, her skin melting with his while she reached for the receiver.

Enjoying the feeling of his warm body underneath her, she snuggled up close to him when she finally answered the call. "Yes?"

"Yes, Tory. We're fine. I..." She nodded. "Of course. What time is it?"

And she nodded again before she hung up.

Pulling Bill into a lazy but passionate kiss, she whispered, "The raptor will be here in an hour."

"Frak." Bill mumbled.

"Exactly." Laura rolled her eyes.

"Well, what's your first meeting of the day?" Bill tried to face the new day.

Laura smiled. "A one-on-one with the Admiral of the Fleet."

"Oh." Bill met her smile. "I hear he's an obliging servant to his President."

"I hear the briefing is scheduled in 90 minutes." Her voice was seductive and low.

"I hear we have some fleet reports to go through." He tried to switch into a professional mode.

"I hear we found a solution for the bacteria problem last night." Her giggles rose.

"I hear the President has more space cookies." He challenged her.

"Oh yes, she does. But this President found another way to stimulate her mind last night."

And she met him for another kiss. "But she might share a cookie or two with her Admiral on a rough day, eventually."

Rolling them over and resting on top of her, Bill captured her mouth once more and whispered his love into her. He was very much looking forward to a slow start into the morning. A morning so different to the others before. A morning of field reports and briefings, of bacteria and algae problems, of Cylon threats and emergencies on CIC.

A morning unlike any other. Waking in the arms of the woman who was his family and his home. Kissing the woman he loved and who owned his heart. Caressing the woman who was equal to him and who never ceased to surprise him. The first morning of his life with Laura.

The first morning of her life with Bill.

**Fin**


End file.
